Leave of Absence
by ZoeWarren
Summary: Set in and around the events of my other story, Going On, this is the story of what happens after the BDM - from Inara's point of view this time. Mal/Inara overtones.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I thought, when I had finished writing 'Going On' that I had exorcised the demons the BDM had left me with. Not so much, as it turns out. All it did was shift my attention from Zoe to Inara. And then, when a friend of mine said that she could never 'ship Mal and Inara because they were too different and too inflexible, I seem to have taken that as a dare. Throw in a FF_Friday challenge about Shakespeare (don't ask) and this is the result. 'Leave of Absence' covers the same timeline as 'Going On' and weaves in and around the events of that story. Only this time, it's all about Mal and Inara._

_Please drop me a review and let me know what you think._

* * *

Leave of Absence

Inara sat, knees drawn up, in a hideously uncomfortable hospital chair, watching Mal sleep. They'd had to operate to repair the damage done by the Operative's sword, and he'd be out for a while yet. Kaylee was asleep next door, recovering nicely from the Reaver poison. Simon was still in surgery. River was sedated. Jayne had accepted treatment for the bullet wound in his shoulder, then walked straight back out again, which gave her some hope the Alliance would keep their word. Inara herself had never felt so bone weary in all her life.

She was still in the state of blank horror that had carried her through the past few days. The memory loomed like a chasm she refused to look into. She wasn't ready to fall apart just yet. So she kept herself moving, cycling between hospital rooms, wielding her influence like a club. She was fairly sure she was grinding her reputation into the dust in the process, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

* * *

Mal awoke, groggy, in an Alliance med facility and for a long moment had no idea how he got there. Every part of him hurt in the kind of dim way that let him know it was going to hurt a lot more once the drugs wore off. He looked around, panicky, for Zoe; found Inara dozing in a nearby chair instead.

Not the war.

Memories slowly began to surface. Wash. Book. Miranda. Not the war, but not much better.

* * *

Inara stayed at the med facility until the last of the crew were released; Mal and Simon, with their belly wounds, were both kept several days longer than the others.

She was wading through paperwork and discharge formalities when Simon's surgeon approached, bowed over her hand, asked if he might be permitted to book some of her time. He was polite, respectable, well groomed. Alliance. The revulsion she felt, the rage, was overwhelming.

She put a pretty smile on her rejection, a well-trained silver tongue. He left feeling he'd been paid a better compliment than if she'd accepted.

She swallowed bile as he walked away.

* * *

"After the danger, the destruction, the upheaval you brought into the training house, do you really think you're in a position to ask for anything?"

"I ask for nothing. I am simply informing you, as a courtesy. There is nothing in Guild Law that forbids it."

"A Companion is who you are, Inara. You can't take a 'leave of absence' from that."

"As I said, I have personal matters that need my immediate attention."

"A true Companion has no personal matters."

Inara remained silent, ceding nothing.

"Take your 'leave of absence', then, if that's what you want. But Guild Law is very clear; you know what you owe in return."

"I know."

The face on the screen softened a little.

"Inara, as a friend… whatever or whoever it is – leaving it a year from now won't be any easier. You may want to consider a more… permanent solution."

"Thank you. But I've made my choice."

* * *

Mal was loathe to accept the Alliance's help with repairs, but the Operative had arranged for it, and he figured the Operative owed them plenty. And, for his part at least, he needed to be back in the sky sooner rather than later.

The nightmares were back, just like after the war – different faces dying in front of him, different faces doing the killing, but the same sickening feeling in his stomach when he woke. He didn't sleep much. Spent the night hours looking for work, for when they were ready. Wasn't much out there. Weren't many, among those the Operative hadn't killed, were willing to talk to him. They'd be walking the raggedy edge for a while.

It took him nearly the whole month Serenity was in dry dock before he found anything at all. Petty salvage, barely worth it. But when Serenity took off again, she'd have somewhere to go. And that was something.

* * *

"Ready to get off this heap and back to civilised life?"

"I…"  
…am never leaving this ship again.  
…don't know if I can live your kind of life.  
...am afraid of being hit again, or shot, or raped, or killed.  
…like civilised life, there's nothing wrong with that.  
…can't go back until I can sleep through the night without screaming.  
…don't trust you not to die.  
…can't live with this kind of uncertainty.  
…love you.  
"…I don't know."

"Good answer."

Inara saw the faintest twinkle come back to Mal's eyes and found herself smiling for the first time in weeks. She watched him head up to the bridge, then turned and headed back to the kitchen to help Kaylee set the table.

* * *

But out in the black it was harder.

In dry dock, Inara had taken on the job of putting their home to rights. With no mechanical skills it was the one job she could do. Sweeping up shards and debris, sorting broken items for repair or replacement, putting everything back where it belonged. Tidying. Organising. Planning. Dirty work, but it felt good. Once Simon had set the infirmary to rights he helped her, sometimes. Less and less often as he discovered that helping Kaylee was more fun. She didn't blame him.

As things approached a more normal state, she slipped herself into the empty space in the rotation of chores; cooking, washing dishes, cycling the disposal unit, cleaning the common areas. If anyone noticed, no one commented. And no one was forced to sit down and map out exactly how Wash's death had changed their everyday lives.

Once the inside was under control, she went to work on the outside. Repairs were nearly finished, any of them could have done it, but the crew named hers the steadiest hand, so she spent hours on a precarious scaff rig outside the ship painting Serenity's name on her hull. The symbolism of making this, her indelible mark on the ship, was not lost on her.

But out in the black it was harder.

* * *

"Kaylee, wait, I'll go with you."

"Oh, 'Nara, hey." Kaylee smiled. "But, I'm going to bargain for supplies. We can meet up after, maybe."

"No, I… I thought maybe I would go with you. And help."

"Oh. That's nice of you, but… um…" Kaylee's eyes flicked to Mal as he entered. "Cap'n!"

"Kaylee, why ain't you gone yet?"

"'Nara wants to come with."

"Did I say argue? Go on, we ain't got much time."

"Mal, let me help."

"You go with Kaylee, dressed like that, she'll end up paying twice what she coulda got alone."

Inara glanced down at the unadorned dark blue dress. "I'm sure you're exaggerating."

"Inara, you ain't goin', and that's final."

"Now you're just being stubborn."

"I am not. This ain't even your business."

"Of course it's my business. I live on this ship, too, Mal."

"You rent a shuttle. It ain't the same thing at all."

"So if I stopped paying rent and moved into one of the passenger dorms you'd take my advice?"

Kaylee looked from one to the other, grabbed her basket and headed down the ramp.

"I can't be having this argument with you every time we set down dirtside. We got no money and less time, and –"

"Then let me help. I can read body language, signals. I trained as a Companion, Mal, I-"

"Then go be a Companion and leave the rest of us to the real work."

* * *

Companions were taught, from day one, to be hard yet seem soft. Nandi told a good story, but in the end, it was that lie that had driven her out. Nandi had always needed to be who she was.

Inara found herself thinking about Nandi a lot these days.

* * *

It had been a long day, heaving heavy crates into the cargo bay for what was essentially a milk run, and the crew was largely silent at the dinner table. The fare was thin, mostly protein, but Kaylee had done a good enough job with it. Mal refused to admit how much he missed the Shepherd's skill with spices.

Mal pushed the food around on his plate, almost too tired to eat. Simon and Kaylee forced out another round of chatter, trying to lift the mood a little, cover their own self-consciousness. Jayne joined in half-heartedly, but Mal let it slide past, let his thoughts wander.

"Mal." Inara's hand on his arm startled him back to reality. Her tone told him it wasn't the first time she'd called him. "Can you please pass the tea?"

He reached across the table for the pot, handed it carefully to her, then found himself staring at her hands as she poured. Her skin was rough and dry, cracked across two of her knuckles. They looked like Kaylee's hands, or Zoe's. The thought made him uncomfortable.

"What?"

Inara had caught him staring, pulled her hands into the long sleeves of the sweater she had taken to wearing over her dresses against the cold. The gesture was almost self-conscious.

"Nothing."

* * *

"I expect you'll be glad to get back into your finery."

Inara's belongings arrived a few weeks after Serenity was airborne again, waiting for her at a space station depot. Mal and Jayne helped load them into her shuttle while Zoe put away the supplies, silent as ever.

Inara smiled at Mal, nodded, made some vague reply. But when she opened the trunks, everything seemed too bright, too gaudy. Too impractical.

She ran her fingers over the silks and satins. Her rough skin caught on the delicate material.

She pulled out a couple of the plainer, simpler dresses, a few shawls against the cold, and packed the rest away.

Mal never mentioned it again.

* * *

Inara had woken from another nightmare, and now she couldn't sleep and she couldn't sit still. It left too much time for thinking. She wound a shawl around her shoulders and stepped out onto the catwalk, leaving the shuttle door open behind her.

The corridors were dark and cool. Inara could feel the sleeping weight of the ship around her, let it begin to soothe her frayed nerves. She paced the catwalk with lingering steps, trailing her hand along the rail, then down the stairs, through the cargo bay, into the common room. She lingered there, folding the afghan, tidying away books, then continued her wandering, up the stairs again, to the aft corridor, the gentle throb of the engine sounding louder in the stillness.

She paused at the top of the stairs, surprised to find light coming from the kitchen.

Mal was sitting at the table, lamp burning at his elbow, the battered ledgers he used for tracking Serenity's finances spread across the table in front of him. The weight of the world on his shoulders.

He looked up as she came in. "What are you doin' up at this hour?"

"Going stir crazy."

Mal nodded, turning back to his books. "Coffee's on the stove."

Inara poured herself a cup. "How bad is it?"

"The coffee?"

"The books."

Mal looked up again as she settled herself at the table across from him. She expected him to bluster the question off, but he simply sighed. "It ain't good." He sat back in his chair and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

"Can I see?"

Mal shrugged and shoved the ledger across the table at her. "Numbers only add up so many ways."

* * *

"You're cold."

"I'm fine."

Mal looked around for his jacket, but he had come up to the kitchen in only his shirtsleeves.

"I've got Kaylee running the life support at minimum, trying to conserve on fuel cells."

"Is it helping?"

"A little." Mal shrugged. "River's doing a fine job, but she can't get the same mileage…"

Inara nodded, not needing him to finish. "Really, I'm fine."

"More coffee, then?"

Inara smiled. "Please."

Mal took her cup and his own and went to put the coffee pot back on the burner.

* * *

"Mal… I have contacts. Wealthy contacts. I'm sure there's work—"

"No."

"There are legitimate shipping contracts to be had—"

"I said no. 'Sides, I ain't payin' taxes and duty to the Alliance. Never again." He looked at her, looked away. "Kinda surprised you're still lookin' on them all rosy, after…"

"My opinions about the Alliance are none of your business. I'm talking about work. We need to eat. You'll deal with Niska, but not with them?"

"And next time you're choosing clients, I'll just come on over and help you pick 'em, shall I?"

Inara got up and walked out, choking on all the things she refused to say.

* * *

Wash would have noticed. And one day, if he had run across her in the kitchen or the common room when no one else was around, he would have called her on it, gentle and joking. He would even have covered for her, if she had asked him to.

Inara missed him for that. And a thousand other things. Serenity wasn't the same without him.

Zoe should have noticed. Should have been watching her like a hawk. Might even have brought it up, in her calm, practical manner. But these days Zoe was only half-there herself.

Kaylee might eventually notice, but for the moment she and Simon were engaged only with each other, with the newness of their love affair, and their self-consciousness in the face of Zoe's broken heart.

Serenity wasn't the same at all; after the extensive repairs she didn't even sound, didn't feel, the same. And Inara, different, now, herself, no longer knew where she fit in. She was beginning to think it had been a mistake to stay.

* * *

Inara woke to the conviction that there was someone else in her shuttle with her. She sat up in the darkness, reaching for her nightstand, memories of Reavers, of Jubal Early, pressing close.

"'Nara."

"Ta ma de, Mal, you scared me. What are you doing in here?"

Inara reached out again, this time for the lights and brought them up low. He was sitting in the shuttle's pilot chair, watching her, his face completely blank.

"Mal, what's wrong?"

"Zoe's pregnant."

* * *

Mal and Inara sat opposite each other at one end of the kitchen table. The warming coffee pot burbled into the silence.

"Put this on."

"I'm fine."

"You're cold. Put it on."

Inara rolled her eyes, but put her shawl aside and pulled Mal's coat around her shoulders instead. It was far too big for her, but the leather was still warm. She threaded her arms through the sleeves.

"Do the others know yet?"

"I just found out my own self."

"How far along is she?"

"She didn't say. Four months, maybe five. I don't think she knew, until after…"

Inara nodded, found herself pushing back a wave of tears. Mal reached for the ledgers, stacked beside him, but couldn't seem to find the strength to open them.

"She's going to need better food. Fresh fruits, vegetables. Fish, if we can get it."

"She's gonna need a lot of things."

The coffee pot rattled on the stove, and Mal pushed himself up to pour them each a cup. He fussed with mugs and spoons and sweetener for a long moment.

"'Nara.' His back was still to her. "If you still know folk might have work… I'll talk to 'em."

"I'll make some calls."

"Good."

He was still stirring, facing away.

"You should know…" Talking to his back was easier. "I've taken a leave of absence from the Guild."

"I know." Mal dropped the spoon into the sink and brought the mugs back to the table. "We'll make it work."


	2. Chapter 2

Inara stepped back into her shuttle, exhausted. She hesitated for a moment on the threshold, then turned and pulled the door shut behind her. She crossed the room and sat down at the Cortex. A few touches of the screen and she pulled up a client list for the first time since she had left Serenity. Since before Miranda.

A variety of new names and faces. A few familiar ones, waiting patiently for her.

Her finger hovered over the selection for a long moment. And then dropped back to her lap.

A swipe sent the screen to black.

* * *

Inara slept fitfully for a few hours and woke feeling cross and tired. She forced herself to sit at the Cortex to find the promised names for Mal.

This time, though, she was very careful not to log in through the Guild.

* * *

There was a light tap at the door.

"'Nara? It's me."

"Come in." Inara sighed, closed out her session and turned stiffly from the pilot's console. Kaylee was standing in the doorway. The look on her face spoke volumes. "You heard?"

"Cap'n told me."

Inara nodded into the silence that followed.

Kaylee crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed. Her fingers picked at the plain woollen bedspread. "How come it's still so grey in here?"

Inara looked around – bare shuttle walls, exposed pilot's console, a couple of still-packed trunks. She shrugged. "I haven't felt much like decorating."

Silence fell again. Kaylee's hands continued to fidget with the blanket. Inara stood and crossed to sit beside her.

Kaylee's hands stilled. She leaned in to Inara's shoulder. "It's good, right?"

"It will be," Inara lied.

* * *

"I have some names for you."

Mal nodded, but didn't reply as he brought the coffee pot and two mugs to the table.

Inara waited while he poured, then pushed a folded piece of paper across the table to him. Mal slipped it into his pocket without reading it.

"I know you don't… like the core worlds, but I think a stop at Ariel might be a good place to start."

"We have a job to finish first."

"I mean after that."

"After that we're going to Persephone."

Inara was immediately suspicious. "Why Persephone?"

"It's past time to mend fences."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"You're going to give him those names, aren't you?"

"That's none of your—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence."

"There's a way these things are done."

"And I wouldn't know that—"

"Not being a 'petty criminal'?"

"The whole point is the money. Why would you cut him in on this?"

"Because if we make contact through Badger, I can keep your name out of this."

"These are my contacts. I don't want my name kept out of this."

"That ain't your decision."

She bristled. "You don't need to protect me, Mal. I know these men, and I trust their discretion. I wouldn't be giving you their names if I didn't."

She could see that hit land.

"This ain't up for debate. We need Badger. And now we have something to offer worth his lookin' at."

"I see." Inara stood; two cups of lukewarm coffee shivered with the force of it. "This was never about me at all."

* * *

Inara was tired of storming back into her shuttle. She was tired of throwing Mal out of it. She was tired of the grey walls, of the inside of the ship and of the fact that there was nowhere to hide. That there was no damned way to get off.

She had the irresistible urge to smash something, but all of her delicates were still packed away and the battered tin cup that was standing in for her tea set just wasn't going to cut it.

She turned slowly to stare at her trunks where they were standing in for table and bench, actually debating for a moment getting the teapot out just to smash it.

She crossed to the trunk, knelt, opened it. An array of bright colours, delicate fabrics. This was her life, her other, her Companion self. Packed neatly in a box. And for a little while, she had thought it might just be that easy. Put aside the clothes and the cosmetics, the silks and the perfumes, get her hands a little dirty and step into a whole new life.

But she had made a choice, long ago, long before she was old enough to really understand what it meant. And that choice had consequences that could never be undone.

The teapot got a reprieve, but Inara began methodically pulling out dresses and drapery.

The contact names she had given Mal would take them to a respectable world sooner or later.

* * *

Mal looked up and felt like he'd been kicked. Inara was coming down the cargo bay stairs in one of her fancy silk dresses, hair and makeup immaculate. He realised in that moment how long it had been since he had seen her done up like that. Was surprised at the surge of anger it raised in him now.

He watched her whole descent, face like stone. She was carrying a valise. So much for her leave of absence.

Mal opened his mouth as she reached him at the bottom of the stairs, not entirely sure what he was about to say.

"'Nara, you comin'?" Jayne was standing in the mule, impatient. Kaylee and Zoe were already aboard and strapping in. "Ain't got all day."

Inara brushed past Mal, handed up her valise and climbed up next to it. Zoe took them out in a cloud of dust.

Past time to sweep out the cargo bay, was the only coherent thought Mal could come up with.

* * *

Inara placed the sheaf of bills on the table in front of Mal and waited.

Disappointment. Anger. Betrayal. He could feel his stomach churning. He looked up into her face… and his acid remarks died on his tongue. The defiant tilt of her head, the set of her mouth. She was spoiling for a fight.

A sneaking suspicion crept through his mind.

"What'd'you sell?"

Her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. She shook her head and dropped down into the chair opposite him.

"Some soft furnishings. A few dresses. Nothing I can't replace eventually. How did you know?"

Mal grinned, feeling unreasonably smug.

"I'm the Captain. It's my job."

* * *

And yet.

For another night, Mal sat in the kitchen, alone with the coffeepot.

He flipped a page in the ledger, another page he had stared at without reading.

* * *

Mal was surprised to find the door to Inara's shuttle was closed. Since Miranda she mostly left it open, even while she was sleeping.

After a moment's hesitation, he knocked.

There was a pause before the door rolled back. He wondered whether he'd woken her.

Mal managed a smile. "You look surprised."

"You don't usually—" Inara stopped herself. "Please, come in."

Mal stepped just over the threshold, but didn't venture any further. He held out the battered ledgers to her.

"I was hoping you would keep these."

Inara stared at them in silence until Mal began to wonder if he'd made a mistake.

"Of all the crew, you've got the best head for figures, I expect." He tried another smile, hoping she'd heard him. "'Cept maybe River."

Inara took the ledgers. Finally met his eyes.

"Thank you."

* * *

Zoe didn't seem to have any trouble adapting to her growing belly. She moved differently now, but her stride was just as purposeful, just as graceful.

Without being asked, Inara helped alter her clothes to fit, helped with the seemingly endless preparations.

She wanted to ask, 'What does it feel like?' She wanted to put her hand out and feel the baby kick. Wanted to say, 'Please let me share. This is as close as I will ever get.'

But Zoe was still locked away in her grief. So Inara sat beside her and sewed in silence.

* * *

Mal looked at Inara sometimes and barely recognised her.

Her head was bent, now, over the Cortex with Kaylee's, on the hunt for an upgrade to Serenity's water systems that was both compatible and affordable. Kaylee, River and Jayne had already tried to build one themselves, with fairly disastrous results. In the interests of not having to mop out the cargo bay a second time, Mal had authorised the purchase.

Listening to them weigh the various options, Mal found himself wondering where Inara had learned to 'make do'. Certainly not among the Companions and all their opulence.

He found himself wondering, for the first time, who she had been before her training.

* * *

Inara stood stock still, a perfect smile plastered on her face and willed Lord Tavistock to walk right past her.

The job had gone well. The crew seemed alive for the first time in weeks. Mal was smiling. She hadn't been able to resist joining in.

Too late she realised Tavistock had come to collect his shipment in person. Although, dressed down as she was, there was always a chance he wouldn't notice her.

But Lord Tavistock, an older gentleman in search of a companion more than a Companion, while able to afford either, was too well bred for that. His face didn't even register surprise at her appearance. He simply bowed over her hand. "Miss Serra. A pleasure, as always."

She could feel Mal's eyes drilling holes in her back as she escorted the gentleman out.

* * *

Inara watched Mal watch Zoe suit up.

Salvage mission. Fairly straightforward. Kaylee was patiently explaining to Simon how to fasten the catches on his suit for the fourth time. Jayne was checking his weapons.

Mal held his helmet in his hands and watched Zoe.

Half of him was terrified to take her with him, the other half was terrified of going without her. Inara knew that expression well by now. It got worse with every job.

Zoe stepped aside to double-check Simon's seals and Mal turned to look right at Inara. Waiting for her to stop him. Because Wash wasn't there to do it.

Inara slipped through the melee to his side, but her throat closed on the words.

"When she can't do the job, she'll tell you."

Almost more a question than a statement.

Mal nodded briefly. But it did nothing to change the guilt in his eyes.

* * *

There was a time when Inara found sewing soothing. A creative outlet. An art form. As she sat in the kitchen cutting down old sheets and hemming them into spit-up rags, washcloths, baby bedding, she found that time very hard to remember.

It was Mal's night on kitchen duty, and his rattling and splashing was keeping her company, at least. He wasn't as methodical about it as she expected a former Sergeant would be and he'd been pottering back and forth across the kitchen almost constantly. She didn't look up when he crossed back to the table until the cup of tea appeared by her elbow.

"I didn't even hear the kettle boil." She smiled. "Thank you."

"You looked like you needed one." Mal sat down opposite her with his own mug. "Give me that."

"What?"

"The…" He gestured at the washcloth in her hands. "The thing. Hand it over."

"What are you going to do with it?"

There may have been a twinkle in his eye. "I'm going to sew it."

"You can sew?"

His face quirked up in a half-smile; clearly, he liked that he'd surprised her.

"I have hidden depths."

She handed it over and with great nonchalance he picked up the hemming where she had left off.

When she was satisfied that he did, in fact, know what he was doing, she turned back to her own work, picking up the next cloth and threading a new needle.

They worked in relative silence – Inara pretended not to hear him swearing when he stabbed his fingers.

"I tried to get Simon to help. It turns out sewing and suturing are two very separate skills."

Mal laughed.

"It was one of the ranch hands taught me. I learned on old leather, fixin' tack." He put the finished washcloth down and reached for another. "When my Ma found out, I had to start fixin' the holes in my own clothes, too. Took some of the fun out of it." He was smiling the smile that crinkled around his eyes. "Came in handy, though. Darned my own socks in the war."

* * *

Inara watched as Mal held Zoe's newborn daughter, tiny and red and wrinkled. Watched him welcome her to the world. Watched him bend and kiss Zoe's dark curls in a gesture of intimacy uncommon for them.

The rest of the crew finally headed for bed, still talking about the new arrival as they dispersed through the corridors. Mal was the last, and turned to her as he headed for his bunk. He was smiling; he looked ten years younger.

"Today was a good day."

Inara nodded. "A good day."

She kept a warm smile mounted firmly on her face until she was alone. Measured steps took her back to her shuttle.

She got the door closed behind her before she started to cry.

* * *

In the first weeks of her life, Grace was hardly ever put down, even when she was sleeping. There was always someone to hold her, cuddle her, fuss over her. Even Mal now did his rounds of the ship with the baby tucked in the crook of one arm, as though she'd always been there.

Inara, though, found that her hands were always busy, at one task or another, when Grace was being handed over.

She could feel Zoe watching her, and despite the discomfort she could appreciate the irony. After so many months of worrying about Zoe, it felt strange to have Zoe worrying over her.

* * *

It was late ship's night, and Inara was wandering the corridors of Serenity once again. It had been weeks since restlessness had kept her up like this. The exhaustion helped with that.

Inara saw a light on in the kitchen and smiled. She stepped up to the doorway. "What are you doing up at…"

It wasn't Mal. Zoe sat on one of the couches nursing Grace, mother and daughter both sound asleep. Inara froze. She couldn't tear her eyes off the sight.

"Inara?"

Zoe was staring back at her. She had no idea how long she'd been standing there.

She turned and fled.

* * *

Zoe found Inara alone in the common room the next day.

"We have a problem."

Trust Zoe to confront the issue head-on. Inara turned to face her, but there was nothing she could say. The tone of her silence was very similar to what Zoe's had been over the last months.

"How can you be her godmother if you won't even hold her."

And with that, Zoe handed over her daughter, leaving no room at all for refusal.

Inara had handled babies before, but she was still amazed at the weight of Grace, the solidity of her. She looked so fragile.

"Godmother?"

"Way we live, nothing's certain. If anything should happen, I trust you to take care of her."

Inara managed a smile. "Mal won't like it."

"You'd be surprised."

* * *

It was a rowdy night around the dinner table. Jayne was telling some ridiculous tale about a heist gone wrong and even Zoe was laughing. Mal lounged back in his chair, his meal finished, and felt something inside him finally relax.

He caught Inara watching him out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help the grin he flashed at her.

She looked happy, too. And tired.

And as she dropped her eyes back to her plate, he realised, with surprise, that he missed her.

Since Grace's arrival, Serenity's internal rhythms had been completely derailed. It seemed like someone was always up and around. And he missed their midnight coffee, the quiet of the ship around them.

He sat with that thought for a moment.

Inara had changed. She was a part of Serenity now. And that no longer made him uncomfortable.

He was the one watching her across the dinner table, now.

Things weren't likely to get back to normal any time soon. He might just have to come up with something else.

* * *

"You know the rules, Inara."

It took Inara a moment longer than she would have liked to find her voice.

"Yes."

"You have been granted leeway since the incident at the training house. Your 'leave of absence,' as you call it. We understand that violence of that nature can be… distressing. But it has been nearly a year; surely you are healed by now?"

"I am well, thank you."

"Then you know your responsibilities. We will expect your decision shortly."

* * *

"I have to go."

The silence stretched out between them.

"Back to your fancy…" Whore academy. He caught her eye and couldn't bring himself to say it.

"The training house, yes."

He forced a smile. "You ain't afraid a crazy, obsessive lunatic might hunt you down again?"

She held his gaze. "Not afraid, no."

He cleared his throat. "So, you're gonna teach little girls… how to…"

Inara's smile was sad. "These girls were bonded to the guild at the age of twelve."

"Well, twelve ain't—"

"They are being housed and clothed and fed. Taught music and art, history and dance, discipline, composure, control. And, yes, sexual arts."

"'Nara, I don't—"

"They are undergoing a long and serious apprenticeship—"

"I ain't—"

"Shut up and listen. When they graduate they will pay a tithe, a percentage of the fee from every client, back to the guild. And if one of those girls should then become unable, or unwilling, to take clients, she would owe service to the guild in another manner. To repay me, and all her other teachers, and to support the guild that protects her."

Mal was silent for a long moment.

"How long?"

"I'll be back in four months."

* * *

Inara sat in the kitchen, a kit of delicate utensils set out before her, carefully shaping her nails. Zoe came up from the common room with Grace in one arm and a basket of laundry in the other, turned to shut the door on the laughter and loud voices rising from below.

"They getting a bit rowdy for you?"

"Simon and Jayne are playing checkers for money."

"Who's winning?"

"Hard to tell, with all the shouting."

Inara put aside her tools and, given the choice, relieved Zoe of Grace. She settled herself on the sofa with the baby in her lap, leaving the table for Zoe and the laundry.

They sat in comfortable silence and it felt like home. Inara tried to file the feeling away, hoard it for the long lonely months that were to follow.

Grace gazed up at her from big eyes and her little mouth tucked up in a smile. Inara bent and buried her face in Grace's belly, murmuring almost to herself.

"I'm going to miss so much..."

Inara could feel Zoe's attention shift, could feel the weight of her gaze.

"This isn't something I ever thought I'd want."

Not until Serenity. Until Mal. That thought sat there baldly in front of her. Yet another item on the infinite list of reasons 'why not'.

Zoe looked amused. "You're still young. There's time to change your mind."

"No." Absolute certainty. "Companions can't have children."

"Guild law?"

"In a way. Companions are sterilized when they reach the end of puberty."

Inara was still gazing down at Grace. She didn't have to look up to know the expression on Zoe's face. She offered the standard explanation, the party line. Her Companion training kept all trace of bitterness from her voice.

"The Guild never wanted membership to become hereditary. And there are certain... practical considerations."

The Guild Mothers were right after all. There were some things from which she couldn't take a leave of absence.

But that didn't mean a Companion was all she was. After all, she was a Godmother now.

* * *

"Hey, Cap'n. Look!"

"Kaylee, come on."

"No, look. Another Firefly."

"No."

"We should say hello."

"I said no."

"C'mon. They're practic'ly family."

"Kaylee…"

"It'll just take a minute."

* * *

Inara glanced down at the envelope Mal handed her. "What's this?"

"There's another Firefly in dock. Kaylee just had to go and make friends."

"I don't understand."

"They put on plays. They're set up on the hill behind the spacedocks. Use their cargo bay like a stage."

Inara opened the envelope, pulled out two tickets. "Hamlet." She looked up. "You bought tickets?"

"Turned out they needed some mechanical help. With their lighting, or some such. Kaylee jumped right in. They offered tickets in exchange. And I thought…" This was even more awkward than he had anticipated. "It ain't fancy, but I thought you might like it."

* * *

Mal, freshly scrubbed and dressed in his Sunday best, watched Inara cross the catwalk above him. Watched her all the way down the stairs.

Funny the difference it made when she was dressed up for him.

* * *

Inara sat on a blanket, spread out on the grassy hillside. Mal lounged next to her, so close she could feel the warmth of his leg alongside her own. But not touching. Never touching.

She found it hard to pay attention to the play.

* * *

Ophelia's last exit. A teenaged girl, driven mad by death, by loss. About to drown herself just to stop the images in her head. Inara thought her heart might break.

Mal squeezed her hand. "Come on."

"What?"

"If we leave now, it'll have a happy ending."

Inara turned to face him. Realised he couldn't watch it either.

He stood and pulled her to her feet. "Come on."

They wound their way across the grass, stepping over and around the other members of the audience, needing to get away before Gertrude's next entrance. Kept going until they were away from the Players' ship, away from the crowds, away from the lights and the noise.

A few steps deeper into the shadows and Mal finally stopped. He still hadn't let go of her hand. Inara looked up at him. She took a step closer.

And then he was kissing her. Hard and breathless. He had his hands in the small of her back, and somehow her arms were around his neck, and she wasn't quite sure if her feet were still touching the ground. Mal's grip on her tightened, the world shifted and suddenly he was laying her down in the grass with the stars of the wide night sky above them.

There were no silk sheets, no perfumes, no ceremonies, no bed.

It was perfect.

* * *

"So."

"So."

"You're still…"

"Mal."

The sound of combat-booted feet saved him from answering.

"'Nara, you weren't going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?"

Kaylee charged down the stairs from the kitchen with Simon in tow. Zoe followed at a more reasonable pace, Grace in her arms.

"Of course not. Just getting ready."

Kaylee flung herself into Inara's arms. "You promise you're coming back?"

"I promise. Four months. It'll pass in no time."

Kaylee pulled back with a sad smile. "Liar."

River appeared on the catwalks above, making her way down from the bridge.

"Someone has to steer this damn boat." Mal brushed past Inara, disappeared down the stairs to the common room, taking the long way up to the bridge.

* * *

Mal descended into his quarters, bruised, angry and exhausted. He dropped down onto the bed, wanting nothing more than to pull off his boots and sleep for awhile. Before he could reach down, his eyes caught sight of them on the narrow desk across the room.

The ledgers. With a note sitting on top.

He rose slowly, crossed to pick it up. The vellum was creamy and smooth under his fingers. He imagined he could smell her perfume rising from it. His name was written on the outside, in unexpectedly simple letters. He turned it over in his hands, finally unfolded it. Inside, only this:

Doubt thou the stars are fire;  
Doubt that the sun doth move;  
Doubt truth to be a liar;  
But never doubt I love.


End file.
